


The Anchor

by Hyarrowen



Category: Indigo Series - Louise Cooper
Genre: Gen, Obscure and British Commentfest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-14 08:04:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2184117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyarrowen/pseuds/Hyarrowen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'If you wish it, I can help you to such a friendship as songs are sung of. There will be danger, and pain – but you will have a friend for the ages.'</p><p>Written for lost_spook's prompt: <em>Indigo & Grimya, post-series (or any, really).</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Anchor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lost_spook](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_spook/gifts).



They were three days out, and the Pride of Simhara was already settling into an easy rhythm: pitch and rise, pitch and rise, on a glittering sea. The routine of the ship was likewise settling; Macce's crew, plucked from their waterfront lairs, were as professional as could be, and all were eager to be going home. Home, in their case, was out there beyond the prow with its anchor, net and trident figurehead; out there on the wide ocean.

Indigo was off-watch. Indeed, she could, if she wished, be a passenger throughout this voyage; Macce had said so, and the crew were in accord. But Indigo wished to lose herself for a few weeks in work, to pretend that she was a common sailor on the Sea-Mother's broad bosom, and Macce nodded and said gruffly, “Of course. You'll be on the port watch. But you're out of practice, so I'll rate you landswoman for the first week.” So Indigo set about learning the ropes once more, and it was beginning to come back to her; her hands were hardening and her mind freeing itself from the memories of Simhara.

Now she sat, balancing on a stanchion, one foot braced on the gunwale, looking out across the anchor tilted thereupon to the bright horizon. Grimya was asprawl on the hatch-cover at her back, her fur – bathed and washed and combed to perfection before they left the city – ruffling in the breeze that came over the ship's quarter. Her scarred nose was flat to the wood beneath her; her eyes were mere amber slits. If ever a wolf could look like a hunting-cat at rest, Grimya did now.

 _This is better, is it not?_ Her voice sounded lazily in Indigo's mind.

 _This is the best._ Indigo debated going for the bowl of stir-about that was to be her breakfast, and decided against it for now. _A few weeks will set us both up for the next task – whatever that may be._

 _Time enough to worry about that when we reach it._ Grimya rolled onto her back, and waved all four paws in the air. Indigo laughed, reached back and scratched her stomach.

_If ever you looked like a puppy - !_

_It's been a long while since I was a puppy. Long before I met you, before I learned to speak..._

_Yes._ Indigo sobered, and her scratching turned to a caress. _And you'll have to remain silent for all this voyage. Will that be hard for you?_

_No. It's speaking with human voice that's hard._

Indigo considered this. _After all these years, still?_

_My throat and tongue and jaws were not made for speech._

_What was it like to learn?_

_Difficult. Painful. But I had help._

Indigo slewed partway round on her stanchion, and canted her head to look at her friend.

_You never said..._

_No, there has always been so much to plan, and fear, and do. I will tell you now, if you wish._

“Yes. Tell me.” She spoke aloud; but it was not so unusual for anyone to speak to their dog, and the Davakotian crewman passing them, a coil of rope on his shoulder, didn't so much as glance in their direction.

* 

It was in the second winter of Grimya's exile from her own kind. She'd been skulking around a camp of the horse-folk – any company was better than none – and listening to the singing around the camp-fire. There had been music too, and she lay, a little beyond the firelight, head on paws and listening as the notes and voices formed a bright braid in her mind. _I wish, she thought, I wish that I could join them. But I do not dare._

So she dozed for a while, senses still alert for any danger, as they were always alert, and it seemed that she dreamed; or so she termed the pictures that came while she slept, from the scraps of conversation that her questing mind had gleaned while she lay at the fringes of human camps. But she was not asleep, not quite.

And yet, there sat before her a creature that had not been there before. It shone bright, for all that its fur was the colour of earth; and its eyes were golden, the colour of Grimya's own as she had seen them in this forest pool or that.

_Little sister._

Grimya gave a soft yelp of surprise. She raised her head. _Who are you? What do you want of me?_

 _Many things, my sister. But I do not ask and give nothing in return. I think you yearn for company: it is in our nature to wish for pack-mates._ The other wolf looked at the camp-fire a hundred paces distant, and back at Grimya; who sighed, and let her head drop back onto her paws. She did not need to reply.

_Do not despair. If you wish it, I can help you to such a friendship as songs are sung of. There will be danger, and pain – but you will have a friend for the ages._

_Danger and pain are my pack-mates. They follow at my tail, look over my shoulder when I drink, crowd close by me when I sleep. I am familiar with them. I am not familiar with friendship._

_But you wish it._ The creature's eyes were on her. 

_Yes. But where can I find it?_

_There is a woman, not of these people, but in danger from them. You will know her by her playing upon a harp._ And the shining wolf placed in her mind a sound, a ripple of notes, and a voice singing to accompany them: a young voice, of a female of the humankind. The song was a lonely one, too. Grimya could sense the loss that lay beyond the song.

_She? She will be my friend?_

_If you wish it, little sister. But remember what I told you: danger and pain. And there will be pain even before the friendship, for you must learn to speak as humans do -_

_Teach me! Teach me now!_ Grimya's voice ended on a little howl, and she swallowed and gazed mutely at the other wolf. They were both on their feet, braced, nose to nose; and Grimya's tail slowly began to stir.

 _That's my brave sister –_ The light that hung about the other wolf suddenly pulsed brighter, and spread until it cloaked her too. All the forest floor was golden with it, the trees soaring away into darkness, the ferns showing spring-green and the pine-needles sharp as a cub's teeth, every one. But as the light suffused Grimya's head and neck, there was indeed pain; there was a panicky sense of things shifting, changing; her jaws and tongue writhed and re-settled, and down in her throat there were greater changes - 

Her heart thundered. She was flat on the ground once more in fear; her panting hissed amongst those bright, sharp pine-needles. But the changes were slowing, and she drew a careful breath – found she could indeed breathe! - and another. Her heart slowed. “What ha-ppened - “ But she heard the thought, with her ears, not just in her head, and glanced around wildly.

_The Mother's gift to you, my sister. You may speak as humans do, if you wish it, from now on. Listen, and learn, and speak – and your friend will be with you soon, and she'll need your friendship too. Remember, the harp -_

Grimya was alone. The camp of humans had gone. Much time had passed. The trees around her were clothed in a green as bright as those ferns had appeared, when bathed in that golden glow. Spring was here.

Grimya stood, and shook herself. She opened her jaws once or twice, and swallowed, feeling the changes that had taken place. They were slight enough, for all that they had disconcerted her mightily while going on. But for now, she tried out the speech that had been promised her.

“Harp. Mu – sic... Friend.”

She shook herself, and went trotting off into the forest. Food first, and then the search.

*

“Oh, Grimya.” Indigo leaned back against the hatch-cover, on top of which her friend still sprawled. Golden eyes, the same colour as those of the Earth-Mother's emissary, glinted at her. “We both needed something, and we found it. I'm so glad...” and she twisted right round, her face on the sun-warmed wood, and smiled into her friend's eyes.

There was a footstep on the ladder leading up to the foredeck. Macce appeared, the diamonds in her cheeks reflecting the light dancing off the waves. “Breakfast, you lazy pair – but only if you hurry!”

Grimya rolled to her feet, and jumped down from the hatch-cover. Indigo was on her feet likewise. “We're not that late! That stir-about had better be hot!” The two made their swift way to the galley, leaving the prow with its symbols of the Sea-Mother behind them, and with it the anchor held high on the gunwale; but Indigo knew that she had her true anchor at her side.


End file.
